"His Eminence forbids me to pay calls? And for what reason?"

"Because you have used his name to introduce yourself into certain places."

"It is not true."

"You have told people you went to that you are Cardinal Fort's nephew."

"And I am not?" asked Caesar, after taking a swallow of coffee.

"You are trying to make use of the relationship, we don't know with what end in view."

"I am trying to make use of my relationship to Cardinal Fort? Why shouldn't I?"

"You admit it?"

"Yes, I admit it. People are such imbeciles that they think it is an honour to have a Cardinal in the family; I take advantage of this stupid idea, although I do not share it, because for me a Cardinal is merely an object of curiosity, an object for an archeological museum...."

Caesar paused, because the monk's countenance was growing dark. In the twilight of his pallid face, his nose looked like a comet portending some public calamity.

"Poor wretch!" murmured the monk. "You do not know what you are saying.

You are blaspheming. You are offending G.o.d." "Do you really believe that G.o.d has any relation to my uncle?" asked Caesar, paying more attention to his toast than to his visitor.

And then he added:

"The truth is that it would be extravagant behaviour on the part of G.o.d."

The monk looked at Caesar with terrible eyes. Those grey eyes of his, under their long, black, thick brows, shot lightning.

"Poor wretch!" repeated the monk. "You ought to have more respect for things above you."

Caesar arose.

"You are bothering me and preventing me from drinking my coffee," he said, with exquisite politeness, and touched the bell.

"Be careful!" exclaimed the monk, seizing Caesar's arm with violence.

"Don't you touch me again," said Caesar, pulling away violently, his face pale and his eyes flashing. "If you do, I have a revolver here with five chambers, and I shall take pleasure in emptying them one by one, taking that lighthouse you carry about for a nose, as my target."

"Fire it if you dare."

Fortunately the waiter had come in on hearing the bell.

"Do you wish anything, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, please escort this clerical gentleman to the door, and tell him on the way not to come back here."

Days later Caesar found out that there had been a great disturbance at the Altemps palace in consequence of the calls he had made. Preciozi had been punished and sent away from Rome, and the various Spanish monasteries and colleges warned not to receive Caesar.

XV. GIOVANNI BATTISTA, PAGAN

"My dear Caesar," said Kennedy, "I believe it will be very difficult for you to find what you want by looking for it. You ought to leave it a little to chance."

"Abandon myself to events as they arrive? All right, it seems a good idea."

"Then if you find something practicable, utilize it."

Kennedy took his friend to a statue-shop where he used to pa.s.s some of his hours. The shop was in a lane near the Forum, and its stock was in antiques, majolicas, and plaster casts of pagan G.o.ds.

The shop was dark and rather gloomy, with a small court at the back covered with vines. The proprietor was an old man, with a moustache, an imperial, and a shock of white hair. His name was Giovanni Battista Lanza. He professed revolutionary ideas and had great enthusiasm about Mazzini. He expressed himself in an ironical and malicious manner.

Signora Vittoria, his wife, was a grumbling old woman, rather devoted to wine. She spoke like a Roman of the lowest cla.s.s, was olive-coloured and wrinkled, and of her former beauty there remained only her very black eyes and hair that was still black.

The daughter, Simonetta, a girl who resembled her father, blond, with the build of a G.o.ddess, was the one that waited on customers and kept the accounts.

Simonetta, being the manager, divided up the profits; the elder son was head of the workshop and he made the most money; then came two workmen from outside; and then the father who still got his day's wages, out of consideration for his age; and finally the younger son, twelve or fourteen years old, who was an apprentice.

Simonetta gave her mother what was indispensable for household expenses and managed the rest herself.

Kennedy retailed this information the first day they went to Giovanni Battista Lanza's house. Caesar could see Simonetta keeping the books, while the small brother, in a white blouse that came to his heels, was chasing a dog, holding a pipe in his hand by the thick part, as if it were a pistol, the dog barking and hanging on to the blouse, the small boy shrieking and laughing, when Signora Vittoria came bawling out.

Kennedy presented Simonetta to his friend Caesar, and she smiled and gave her hand.

"Is Signore Giovanni Battista here?" Kennedy asked Signora Vittoria.

"Yes, he is in the court." she answered in her gloomy way.

"Is something wrong with your mamma?" said Kennedy to Simonetta.

"Nothing."

They went into the court and Giovanni Battista arose, very dignified, and bowed to Caesar. The elder son and the two workmen in white blouses and paper caps were busy with water and wires, cleaning a plaster mould they had just emptied.

The mould was a big has-relief of the Way of the Cross. Giovanni Battista permitted himself various jocose remarks about the Way of the Cross, which his son and the other two workmen heard with great indifference; but while he was still emptying his store of anti-Christian irony, the voice of Signora Vittoria was heard, crying domineeringly:

"Giovanni Battista!"

"What is it?"

"That's enough, that's enough! I can hear you from here."

"That's my wife," said Giovanni Battista, "she doesn't like me to be lacking in respect for plaster saints." "You are a pagan!" screamed the old woman. "You shall see, you shall see what will happen to you."

"What do you expect to have happen to me, darling?"